He Turned His Back from Destiny
by Mediale
Summary: A broken man chooses his own fate, at the time of the final battle.


**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters all belong to J.K Rowling  
****Summary:** A broken man chooses his own fate, at the time of the final battle.  
**Characters**: Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Remus, Tonks, Voldemort  
**Words:** 724

..&..

**He Turned His Back from Destiny**

It wasn't the piercing screams that prodded his thoughts, nor was it the lingering thuds of fallen bodies. Instead it was the pregnant silence that engulfed the man with the broken soul.

He watched as his lioness with the fiery hair charged forward, a roar on her lips. The lips he had claimed as his own only minutes—or was it hours ago?

But then, she fell, the cause of an emerald streak of light, that seemed to kill everyone—everyone but him. And all he could do was watch.

He watched as a once playful otter, twirled around those clothed in the colour of the bloody night. Her bushy brown mane bounced with her strategic steps. Thuds followed her deadly dance, but she stayed strong.

Until she fell into a puddle of a colour all too familiar to those he loved--crimson. And all he could do was watch.

He watched as a fierce dog tore through the mob of masks and robes, his hands waving towards him. Summoning him.

But then the scarlet man fell too, three--four-- skeletons draped across his agile body. And all he could do was watch.

..&..

There was blood, there were emerald lights and screams that could not be rinsed from his tainted memory and once more, he was forced to recall his life. Or was it a dream, a nightmare that he could not be woken from? He could not pinch himself and awaken from this terrible world that many called their home. Instead he was lingering like the lost soul he was.

Some told him that he was their hope, their hero, the light at the end of the tunnel, and once he had believed it all. But in the face of battle, and the death of all those he loved it made him wonder.

_Is this all worth it?_

The broken man stood, and stepped with a broken stride, watching as those pointed to an unearthly figure. A magical figure.

Another body fell to the ground.

This time it was his wolf, but he could hear no sound from the world around him.

..&..

_You are our saviour._

_Lead us to a life without the darkness._

_It's your destiny._

_..&.._

Once he had believed it all, but now he doubted everything.

Another body fell beside him.

..&..

He watched as his other half stood proud, a smirk gracing the features that were almost too horrible to look upon. He stepped forward again, watching his guard fall at his feet. Her bright pink hair was dulled from the mud of his dirty shoes.

A swarm of her partners ran forward with rage. The unearthly figure was rampaged with spells and magic that seemed all too unreal, even in the world he had been living in for eight years.

They fought gallantly, and he knew, somewhere in his corrupted conscience that they called him their saviour.

_I am their saviour, but am I my own?_

The gory atmosphere clung to his sore throat that seemed to be clogged with a feeling. A feeling he had been forcing back ever since he had been introduced to the world as he knew it. The bloody air clung to him, and pressured his stomach that seemed to be making flying leaps of faith.

Leaps of faith that he was supposed to making, but instead he was stuck where he was.

An unnaturally long finger summoned him again; even though his supposed equal was still in battle. The dirty man's eyes followed the finger, sweeping over the battle grounds, and the bodies that came with it.

The grass was brown and from the war it had faced, and grey stones continued to jut out proudly from the ground. Banners of four colours laid tattered beside the boulders. This was where he had called home for so long.

Sightless eyes gazed at him from their deathbeds. These were the ones he called his family.

It was a war that had hardly begun, but yet it was already lost and finished for this man. He could do nothing for what had died already, and so he made a decision.

His decision. Not theirs.

He stepped back, his arms glued to his sides

And slowly he turned his back.

He turned his back from destiny.

..&...

_Afterthought: I wrote this in a spur of a moment, unfortunately it undoubtfully didn't come out the way I wanted. Instead, it seems very unrealistic, to me at least. I hope you enjoyed anyways:_

_-- Mediale _


End file.
